《Wyrmhaven》


 Chapter One: Bad Dreams

    Chapter One: Bad Dreams


    Hungry flames ate at the stones, the walls, and the wood, attempting to devour everything like a raging, hungry monster.


    ¡°GIVE HIM TO ME, TAELIA!¡±


    A growling, booming voice like thunder and rock yelled over the flames, which flared up at the sound of the voice.


    ¡°He is not here! You are too late!¡±


    ¡°LIES! I SENSE HIM!¡±


    Putrid yellow and green orbs pierced through the flames. They were eyes, and their malice burned hotter than the fire surrounding them. A beautiful blonde woman stood defiant against those eyes. Her ears were pointed, but her skin was silver and white scales. She wore brilliant armor like a shining star within the darkness and flame.


    In her right hand was a blade of radiant light, a silver-tongued beacon of power that the woman raised up against the eyes. A chuckle that sent shivers down the spine emanated from the surrounding darkness around the eyes.


    A darkness that was not darkness but scales blacker than a starless, moonless night. Like a giant glacier, the darkness moved, and scarlet light built within the darkness before it rushed out like the tide. Blazing fire bathed the woman, but when the flame died, the woman still stood, unburnt.


    ¡°YOUR POWER HAS GROWN, TAELIA. IT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH. GIVE ME THE BABE AND YOUR DEATH WILL BE QUICK.¡±


    In answer, the woman raised her silver sword.


    ¡°Come, betrayer! We shall see who dies this day!¡±


    Away from the fire, the woman, and the malicious eyes, another woman was in a tunnel deep under the now-burning castle. She clutched a small form to her chest and sat astride a huge black horse. She spurred the horse onward, and it began to trot and then run before galloping as fast as it could.


    It was some time before she emerged from the tunnel into a dark forest.


    The great voice roared from behind her, but the woman paid no attention to it. Instead, as if carried on the whispering wind, words stirred the form she clutched to her chest.


    ¡°Ash Lorcan,¡± the words that began as a whisper grew into a gale.


    ¡°ASH LORCAN!¡±


    _____________


    Ash opened his eyes, his hands snapping to his throat, certain his lungs were filled with smoke.


    ¡°Fore¡¯s teeth, boy, you¡¯re sweating like a pig. Calm yourself, and get ready. We have chores to get done.¡±


    His rapid heart slowed at his uncle¡¯s words, and he lowered his hands, forcing himself to take more measured breaths. The air was clean, and there was no smoke at all. He still felt hot all over, like a fire burned inside him. It¡¯s the same every time, he thought.


    Chores? He blinked. Nothing is burning. I¡¯m still in Sarvhall, on the farm.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He sat up, rubbing his arms; his skin was sweaty and nearly burned at the touch.


    Outside his window, it was still dark, but this had been his life since he was old enough to use his hands, and he knew dawn wasn¡¯t too far off. He pushed himself out of bed, and his uncle¡¯s nose wrinkled.


    ¡°I suggest a shower before you head out, lad.¡±


    Ash opened his mouth, but his uncle raised one of his burly hands,


    ¡°I know, it¡¯s better to take one after, but you reek, boy. Like ashes and rotting wood. Best you take two, eh? I think the scripts can handle it. Go on, now.¡±


    His uncle stood up from the edge of his bed, and he was so big that he took up most of the room, especially with his dark clothes, wool cape, and shepherd staff. He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, a habit Ash knew he had picked up from the military.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of gathering the feed, but it¡¯s your turn to do the mucking out today.¡±


    His uncle swept his brown eyes over the room, raising an eyebrow. He picked up the basket of rocks near his feet and moved them aside so they were less in the way. Then he picked up a discarded book, raising an eyebrow at his nephew as he held the book.


    ¡°And by Fore¡¯s burly beard, boy, would it kill you to get rid of some of this stuff? Do you need all of those books, eh? Or these rocks?¡±


    Ash rubbed the back of his neck, smiling and lowering his eyes.


    His uncle shook his head,


    ¡°Some things never change. Get to it, boy. Your aunt will have breakfast waiting for us after we¡¯re done. Then, we have the house to get ready for Remembrance Day.¡±


    Ash nodded, and before his uncle left, he paused, muttering something to himself that Ash couldn¡¯t hear. He went to his bathroom. All he had to do was touch the script on the wall under the spigot, and the script along the metal lit up red and blue as water poured out of it in a steady stream.


    He adjusted the heat by running his fingers over the script to the right. The red light responded by glowing ever so brighter than the blue. For not the first time, he wondered how it worked. No one around could explain it to him.


    Only adventurers knew about that sort of thing, and the very few that had passed through Al¡¯Herder farm hadn¡¯t been in the mood to answer a sixteen-year-old¡¯s questions. As the hot water washed away the sweat and stink, he again yearned to travel the world.


    Dominion was a vast continent that had not yet been fully explored, even by the four large kingdoms that covered it.


    Most of all, he yearned to be an adventurer.


    He scrubbed his hair under the water, rolling his neck. Swiping right over the script, the red light completely overpowered the blue now.


    The heat had never bothered him. He had only ever felt hot when he had that dream.


    After his shower, he dressed, not as heavy as his uncle, because the cold rarely bothered him. His shepherd''s staff was a simple piece of wood but comfortable in his hands. Longingly, he looked at the large collection of rocks he had found in his walks on the farm and nearby forest.


    They were all bright, and one of his favorite things was to polish them, placing them one by one into the basket they resided in. His books were unorganized, seemingly thrown on the shelves haphazardly, and many of their pages were bent at the ear.


    I better head out before Uncle Derrick gives me an earful, he thought. Leaving the room, he headed for the sheep pens. The huge pitchfork he used waited for him by the pens. The sheep paid him no mind, not only used to him but used to the authority of the staff.


    He moved them to one side of the pen with the staff, touching them gently with the hook at the end of his staff. If they didn¡¯t listen, he¡¯d get Bruce, the old sheepdog that had been in the family since he was an infant.


    His flock was so well trained that he hardly ever had to worry about it. After moving the sheep, he started on the mucking. It took time, but he had done this job many times. So many times, in fact, he was hardly bothered by the smell anymore.


    He was finished in less than two hours.


    He wiped his brow, watching his breath turn white as it hit the air. Dawn¡¯s light began to play across the farm, and a rooster crowed. He was about to help his uncle with the other chores, and a chilling howl split the air.


    Ash whipped his head around. Wolves? That didn¡¯t make sense. Wolves didn¡¯t just attack out of nowhere.


    But sure enough, he saw several gray forms emerge from the forest, fangs bared.


    They were headed right for him and the sheep, a wild light in their eyes.


    His hands tightened on his pitchfork, and his heart began to hammer on the anvil of his ribs.

 Chapter Two: Lost Sheep

    Chapter Two: Lost Sheep


    High-pitched fearful bleats cut through the air, mixing with the snarls of the oncoming wolves. The sheep were well trained, but no matter how well trained they might be, their fear overpowered it. They pressed against the wooden pen, and while his uncle had used good, strong wood to build the fence, there were more than twenty sheep in that pen, all struggling, pressing, to get out.


    The wood cracked like lightning from the open sky, and the sheep fled, with wolves pursuing gray blurs and flashing fangs. Ash looked on, fingers tightening around his pitchfork; he rushed forward to defend the sheep.


    His heart was attempting to claw its way out of his chest. He struck with the pitchfork, awkwardly catching a snarling wolf on the flank. It yelped, but Ash achieved little with his attack, not even piercing the skin.


    ¡°No!¡± He yelled as another wolf bit into the heels of a sheep, going for its throat when it stumbled.


    Like a slashed tomato, liquid squirted from the animal¡¯s throat, smearing its white fluff and the dirt beneath it. Ash tried again to attack the wolf, his vision narrowing and throat constricting as he felt everything heighten.


    The wolf dodged the poor excuse for a weapon, its eyes gleaming with unmasked madness, and lashed out at him.


    He tried to dodge, but he tripped, falling on his butt. He skidded back as the wolf went for the kill, bearing down on him. He tried to get the pitchfork between them, but it slipped out of his fingers, so instead, he crossed his arms over his face.


    I¡¯m going to die here; the thought made him cry out as he was unable to contain the fear.


    He felt heat and sharp pain in his arm as the snarling wolf bit into his arm, drops of saliva coating his face. At that moment, all that existed was the blood running from his wound, the growling of the monster wolf trying to kill him, and the pain like a thousand needles plunging into his arm.


    Then, suddenly, it was gone. The wolf was hefted off of him and thrown away. His uncle was there, looking far different than Ash had ever seen him.


    He no longer held a shepherd''s staff but a sword gleaming in the morning light. Uncle Derrick wielded it like a hero from the adventure novels Ash loved to read. His footing was sure, and his bearing was confident. He flowed like river water as the snarling wolf leaped at him, and the razor-sharp blade cut the wolf open from jaw to tail.


    Hot, stinking viscera fell to the ground in a steaming pile, the wolf¡¯s corpse falling to the ground with a thud.


    Ash clutched at his arm, blood coating his fingers.


    ¡°Uncle, watch out!¡±


    But the warning was unnecessary; Uncle Derrick was already moving, ending the second wolf¡¯s life as easily as the first.


    Ash¡¯s jaw fell in awe as his uncle moved as fast as a free-flowing stream, killing another wolf. That should have sent them running, Ash was sure. Wolves didn¡¯t keep attacking over and over like this. But they normally didn¡¯t attack in the open and in the light of day like this, either.


    Two more attacked his uncle, but it did the predators no good. Uncle Derrick didn¡¯t just move like water; he fully embodied the element, and the wolves could not touch him.


    In his books, Ash had read about adventurers who could control water so precisely that they could use the element like a blade. This wasn¡¯t one of his books, but his Uncle lashed out just like one of those storybook adventurers wielding water like a weapon.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    No matter how many came at him, the wolves didn¡¯t have a chance. When he was surrounded by six dead wolves, steaming piles of blood and guts, Uncle Derrick relaxed his stance.


    He was barely breathing hard.


    His brown eyes swept around, scanning for more threats. When he was satisfied, Uncle Derrick grunted. He turned to Ash, his eyes landing on the bloody gash in his arm.


    ¡°We need to get that looked at. Come on, boy, close your mouth and go see your aunt. Get that wound tended to.¡±


    Ash gaped for a second or two before slowly closing his mouth and shaking his head.


    ¡°How? What?¡±


    ¡°No questions now, lad. Go on before you pass out from blood loss.¡±


    Uncle Derrick looked into the forest, turning his lips downward into a frown, his eyes gaining a troubled shadow.


    ¡°Something¡¯s not right here. Not right at all,¡± Ash barely caught the muttered words as he stood up.


    ¡°But, Uncle, what about the sheep?¡±


    Derrick waved a hand,


    ¡°Go. I don¡¯t want you in the forest just now. I¡¯ll be retrieving them. If you really want to help, you can help your aunt around the house after your wound is seen to. Guests will be arriving in a few hours.¡±


    With that, his Uncle turned, striding into the forest, fingers tightening around the hilt of the sword he held.


    Ash watched him go, still bleeding and still in pain; he went inside to see his aunt.


    _________


    ¡°What happened, dear? Slip and fall?¡±


    Ash shook his head,


    ¡°No, Auntie. Wolves attacked. The sheep got out of the pen and fled into the forest. Uncle Derrick killed some of the wolves; he had a sword! He used it like a real adventurer! Did you know he could do that?¡±


    Aunt Dara furrowed her brows,


    ¡°Wolves? Speak plain, dear, start at the beginning.¡±


    Ash laid out the story, and Aunt Dara tended to his wound as he did. First, she cleaned it, causing him to wince, and then she wrapped it in a clean bandage she pulled from a healing kit she kept in the kitchen above the cooling box.


    When Ash finished recounting his tale, Aunt Dara merely looked troubled, her storm-gray eyes looking out the window. Almost absently, she tugged on her silver-white braid.


    ¡°Wolves don¡¯t attack like that,¡± she stated.


    Ash shrugged,


    ¡°But they did. Did you miss the part where Uncle Derrick had a sword? Did you know he had a sword, Auntie?¡±


    She waved a hand before smoothing her brown apron,


    ¡°Never mind the sword, dear. We have a lot to be about. We can start with prepping the food to be cooked. Do you think you can handle a knife without cutting yourself again, hmm?¡±


    Ash nodded before getting to work.


    ¡°Did Uncle Derrick always have a sword?¡±


    Aunt Dara paused in peeling a potato.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to let this go, are you?¡±


    Even as she asked the question, her eyes held a hint of amusement, her matronly features wry.


    Ash rubbed the back of his neck,


    ¡°Come on, Auntie, please tell me?¡±


    He gave her a pleading look. The same look he used when he was small.


    Aunt Dara threw her head back, rich laughter pouring from her throat. Ash grinned, knowing he would be getting an explanation out of her now.


    She shook her head before returning to peeling potatoes as she spoke.


    ¡°It¡¯s no great mystery, dear. Your uncle served in the king¡¯s army. All soldiers pick up some swordplay in their service.¡±


    Ash¡¯s jaw dropped for a second time that morning,


    ¡°How come no one told me?¡±


    Aunt Dara sighed, laying down the peeler. Her voice hardened just a bit.


    ¡°You need to understand something, Ash, my dear. The world is not one of your fantasy novels. Soldiering is dangerous, and when it¡¯s wartime¡­¡± Aunt Dara closed her eyes and breathed.


    ¡°It¡¯s one thing to fight monsters. That¡¯s horrifying, but it¡¯s a whole new level when you¡¯re killing other men. We don¡¯t talk about it because your uncle doesn¡¯t like to remember that time.¡±


    Ash nodded, but the explanation didn¡¯t quite kill his excitement.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d teach me, Uncle, I mean?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have to ask him; I might have said he would be against the idea¡­but you might need to know how to defend yourself now.¡±


    Ash lapsed into his work as he allowed his mind to wander, imagining the epic training sessions he would have with his uncle and all the wolves he¡¯d fend off with a shining blade.


    They worked several hours prepping food, cleaning, and decorating the large farmhouse. Furniture was pushed aside, and even with his wounded arm, Ash whistled as he worked.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s excited,¡± Aunt Dara observed.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s Remembrance Day!¡±


    ¡°Mm. Which means the story, of course.¡±


    ¡°Am I that predictable?¡±


    Aunt Dara laughed again,


    ¡°Dear, you¡¯re sixteen. Of course, you¡¯re predictable. I think you¡¯d be tired of hearing the story by now. But come now, there¡¯s another reason for your joyful mood, isn¡¯t there? Rosalia will be here. ¡±


    He was about to reply, his face heating up, when he heard the trotting of horses and voices outside.


    Guests had finally arrived, and Remembrance Day was just about to start.

 Chapter Three: Remembrance Day

    <u>Chapter Three: Remembrance Day</u>


    Ash greeted the guests at the door with a smile on his face. Aunt Dara would give him a thorough tongue-lashing if he didn¡¯t act like a proper host. The first to enter was, in fact, Rosalia. She was Ash¡¯s age, and his heart quickened when he looked at her.


    Her ears poked through her wavy hair, reminding him of a sunset¡¯s dying light. Her ears and lovely, near-perfect heart-shaped features made her an elf. He only thought her features were near perfect because she had a smattering of freckles across her nose.


    He liked that most about her; it grounded her beauty and made her more real. Her blue eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky, lighting up when they landed on him.


    ¡°Ash!¡± She hugged him in a tight embrace that he hoped would never end.


    She was wearing forest green riding clothes, and they fit rather well, Ash thought, his face heating up yet again.


    ¡°Rosalia, it¡¯s good to see you. Here, sir, let me help you with your bags!¡±


    Rosalia¡¯s father, a huge human man with chestnut hair and an impressive beard across his chest, had come in behind his daughter, setting down a few bags.


    He grunted, allowing Ash to pick them up and take them to the guest rooms. Rosalia followed him as he did.


    ¡°Your Aunt Dara did an excellent job on the decorations! These are beautiful!¡±


    She stopped by a pot of white campion flowers dominating a small table. Reaching out a hand, she caressed the flower with an adoring smile.


    ¡°Yeah, we had to go Deharra for them. There¡¯s a script on the pot that preserves them. But, you know how we need white flowers on Remembrance Day, and not many are around the farm.¡±


    Rosalia nodded, looking at the other decorations.


    The whole room was decorated in white, with tablecloths, paintings, and even scripted lamps burning like white flames. It was just enough not to be too much.


    The next room was the dining room, and the massive table was also decorated with white, down to the silverware. Beyond this room was the living room, and the story would be told there by the fireplace.


    ¡°Are you looking forward to the story?¡± Ash asked as they walked up the stairs to the guest room.


    Rosalia shrugged,


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing new. It¡¯s the same old boring story. I would much rather hear about the Nythum or the Ir¡¯Aegra.¡±


    Ash pushed open the door, setting the bags down by the closet. He turned to Rosalia,


    ¡°But Amalia tells it so well!¡±


    He had to admit that she did have a point. It would be nice to hear something else every once in a while. But it was Remembrance Day, and the story was a part of it. Not hearing it or changing the story that was told seemed¡­wrong somehow.


    Rosalia raised a hand,


    ¡°She does, but it¡¯s still the same story, no matter how well it is told.¡±


    They left the room, and she asked,


    ¡°Do you still have that rock collection?¡±


    Ash shifted his eyes,


    ¡°Umm¡­¡±


    She giggled,


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to have a hobby, you know!¡±


    He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as she laughed.


    ¡°Oh no, what happened?¡±


    He turned to see what she meant and found her looking at the white campion, shock writ on her features. He saw why right away.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The flowers were dead. Every single one had wilted and turned black


    ¡°How?¡±


    He shook his head, bending down to look at the pot base. The script still seemed to be working, and he could not do anything if it were broken. Adventurers knew scripts, not ordinary shepherds like him.


    But the faint blue light was still there, so as near as he could tell, it was doing what it should be.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go tell my aunt Dara. She¡¯ll want to replace these.¡±


    Voices filtered through the entryway as Rosalia and Ash neared.


    ¡°Brought all the sheep back, but there¡¯s somethin¡¯ wrong in that forest. All the animals¡­they¡¯ve gone wild. Even the sheep didn¡¯t want to mind.¡±


    Uncle Derrick turned to regard Ash and Rosalia as they appeared.


    Uncle Derrick grunted,


    ¡°See, your Aunt Dara patched you up. That¡¯s good, boy.¡±


    Rosalia looked over, brow furrowing, then her eyes widened,


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt! I¡¯m so sorry, Ash, I didn¡¯t even notice.¡±


    He rubbed his face, hoping she wouldn¡¯t see his skin turn red,


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he muttered.


    Uncle Derrick winked at him, shaking Rosalia¡¯s father¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Always a pleasure to see ya, Court. I need to get cleaned up for tonight if you¡¯ll excuse me. Oh, and you¡¯re looking lovely as ever, young lady.¡±


    Uncle Derrick walked past them as the tips of Rosalia¡¯s ears went pink, and she shifted her right boot.


    As the day passed, more people began to arrive, many of whom were families from nearby farms and the village of Dahara, a few hours'' ride away.


    Children began to skip, play, and sing a rhyme outside.


    ¡°Oh, twelve dark lords on dragons ride,


    With purple smoke and spooky pride.


    Their dragons twist, their hearts gone bad,


    They make the flowers droop and sad.


    Where wild light flashes and skies turn gray,


    They laugh and chase the sun away.


    Dead flowers fall, and trees don¡¯t play,


    The Ir¡¯Aegra¡¯s near¡ªdon¡¯t stay!


    They hum a tune, a creeping sound,


    Their shadow crawls along the ground.


    So run, run fast, don¡¯t stay too long,


    Or you¡¯ll join their scary song!


    So sing and skip, but watch the night,


    The Ir¡¯Aegra hide from lantern light.


    When purple smoke begins to swirl,


    Stay inside, good girl or boy!¡±


    He had heard the rhyme before, long ago. Something about it nagged at him, and he stared for a few long moments at the children as they skipped and sang it again.


    ¡°Always found that light-cursed rhyme to be creepy.¡±


    The baritone was deep, with an accent he never could place.


    He turned, finding exactly who he expected to find to have come up beside him.


    Nicholas Al¡¯Smith was a short, stocky dwarf with skin like polished ebony and hair as dark as painted twilight. Despite his mother''s prodding to dress appropriately on Remembrance Day, he always wore the same clothing, no matter the occasion.


    A dark shirt tucked into dark jeans and a white smith¡¯s smock over it. At his side was a large hammer he never left home without. His father always liked to say that his boy was born with a hammer in his hand.


    With how Nicholas treated the tool, Ash didn¡¯t doubt the story''s validity.


    ¡°Good to see you, Nick.¡±


    Nick waved a hand,


    ¡°If Pa didn¡¯t give me so much Hero-cursed work, I¡¯d visit more often.¡±


    Ash winced slightly,


    ¡°Far be it for me to judge, Nick, but do you have to blaspheme?¡±


    Nick laughed, looking up and spreading his hands.


    ¡°Why? Do you think the Light will smite me? Come on then, smite me down, o¡¯great Light!¡±


    Ash¡¯s mouth fell open halfway, expecting the Light to do just that.


    No bolt of lightning struck his friend.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bad idea to mock the Light, Nick.¡±


    ¡°Bah! What has the Light ever done for us, eh Ash?¡±


    ¡°The Bore¡­¡±


    ¡°Ha! The Bore! Who even knows if the Light made that eyesore, hmm?¡±


    Ash flicked his gaze to the north. Hanging there, as it always did, and Light willing, always would, was what looked like a giant black line in the sky. He had always thought it was like a cosmic zipper.


    Nick sighed,


    ¡°Never mind. I¡¯m sorry I argued. We don¡¯t see each other much, and the first thing I do is argue with you. I¡¯m a Lighting fool.¡±


    Ash put a hand on his friend¡¯s shoulder,


    ¡°No, you aren¡¯t. I¡¯m the one who made a big deal out of it. Hey, let¡¯s go inside; Amalia should be here soon.¡±


    Nick grunted, and they went inside.


    _________


    When Amalia Vane arrived, everyone knew it.


    She was the storyteller and lived just outside the village of Dahara. Dressed in fine black and violet robes, her face was as pale as moonlight, and her eyes shone like amethysts on a clear day.


    She was slender but walked with the confidence and strength of an adventurer. Her hood was pulled up, but the one time he had seen her with it down, her hair was like dark ocean waves.


    She always had eyes for Ash when she visited, as if her violet eyes could read every thought that popped into his mind. When he was younger, he had tested the theory once, looking at her and thinking she was beautiful.


    She had smiled at him!


    He was embarrassed to admit that he had quickly retreated to his room after that.


    Now, as she had every Remembrance Day past, she was here again. In her hands was a staff of purest light, with strange engravings etched into the wood.


    At one point, he had asked her what the engravings were, as they didn¡¯t look like any script he had ever seen.


    All she would say was that they were,


    ¡°A gift.¡±


    Amalia talked for a while, and then everyone sat down for the evening''s meal, filling the table to bursting with foods of all kinds. Aunt Dara had cooked it all; however, everyone helped set it on the table.


    After the meal, everyone packed into the living room, some having to stand at the farthest edges.


    Amalia stood before the fire, reaching up and slowly pulling down her hood, her black hair spilling. The firelight made her silken hair shine like polished obsidian, a rock he had read about in one of his books and hoped to see in person one day.


    She lifted her white staff, and the fire dimmed, dark shadows engulfed the room.


    It was time for her to deliver the story of Remembrance.

 Chapter Four: The Story

    Chapter Four: The Story


    ¡°In the beginning, there was Light and Shadow.¡±


    Amalia¡¯s voice was a soft caress that carried to the ears of everyone on unseen and unfelt winds. As she spoke, a white ball of Light bloomed in the darkness, bathing the room in brilliance. But the shadows were not banished. Instead, they seemed to intensify, becoming almost tangible.


    ¡°It is in the Light¡¯s nature to create, and so it did. Dominion was born.¡±


    There was a pulse from the ball of white that floated in the middle of the darkness. From it flowed land, a transparent, brilliant image of white blanketing most of the room. Some of the children, their eyes wide with wonder, reached up tiny hands to clutch at the image, their wonderment growing as their hands passed through it.


    Amalia¡¯s voice grew even softer, the sliding whisper of a blade on cloth.


    ¡°It is in the Shadow¡¯s nature to slowly corrupt and consume all. So it did, spreading across the land.¡±


    The shadows began encroaching on the land, causing thick veins of shadow to bulge within it, eventually shattering the image into shards of white.


    ¡°Desiring to protect its creation, the Light formed guardians from its substance. Tasked with beating back the Shadow.¡±


    Splitting off from it, smaller orbs of light rushed forward, causing the shadows to recoil from them.


    ¡°Thus free to create, the Light formed the waters and the skies. It made the sun and the moon. So it was that night and day was created.¡±


    A brilliant orange, pink, and red ball blazed over the land. After some time, it faded, replaced by a pale orb, full and soft, pulling and calling to the waters below.


    ¡°The Light desired to create something more like itself, beings who could appreciate his creations. It made the dragons.¡±


    A roar filled the air, and many jerked or cried out. Large creatures sprawled over the land, with brilliant scales of every shade and broad wings that beat at the air. They breathed fire into the air.


    ¡°Still, the Light was not satisfied. Something was missing. It created the first people, eternal and beyond mortal beauty.¡±


    Some males and other females began to pop up on the land. They raised their hands, swaying.


    ¡°Much to the Light¡¯s delight and shock, its creation created something of itself¡ªthe first songs. So the Light named them the Lyrlalae, or the Singers. It gifted their music with a power to create, to shape all its own.¡±


    Pushing their hands forward, the figures began to weave, motes of light puffing from their mouths. Trees, grass, rocks, mountains, and more began to sprout from the land. Raising their heads to the sky, stars began to dot the night sky.


    Amalia¡¯s voice turned soft and sharp once more.


    ¡°But the Shadow was not yet done. It was an insidious thing, and it began to seep into the Lights guardians, twisting their substance into something darker.¡±


    Twisted, dark, monstrous things that defied explanation began crawling over the Light¡¯s creation. Children cried out, clutching at their parents.


    Off to the side, Ash saw Nick roll his eyes.


    ¡°These dark creatures ate away at the land, consuming all they came across, their once pure purpose distorted into a perverted thing.¡±


    A dragon cried out, consumed by the dark creatures.


    The Singers looked worried. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°The Light went to the Singers and tasked them with creating a prison. Using their powerful voices, they created a world separate from Dominion. The Nevervare.¡±


    A world of utter black formed opposite of the vast land.


    ¡°Working with the Singers, the Light imprisoned the creatures within. But now he lacked guardians to defend what he had made, so the Light kept the Shadow at bay itself, in tandem with the remaining guardians.¡±


    The great orb floated into the darkness, surrounded by the other small orbs; the Shadow could not overcome them.


    ¡°For a time, there was peace, and a strange thing happened. From the waters came lifeforms. Those lifeforms evolved over the eons, and the mortal races began to walk the earth. Men, elves, dwarves, and Visenium. They began to roam across the land, building, growing, and changing as time marched on.¡±


    Buildings, villages, and society began to spread across the land.


    ¡°Through this time, Shadow had become dimmer and dimmer, but something strange happened. As Shadow dimmed, so too did the Light. It was with this that the Light understood. Neither force could exist without the other. For Light to exist, there must be Shadow, with the reverse also being true.¡±


    We all watched Shadow and Light dimmed, with the Light¡¯s creations beginning to warp as the Light slowly faded.


    ¡°Knowing that Shadow would corrupt and consume all if it stopped, it proposed Shadow. They would work through proxies. Should Shadow win, Light would leave all it had created to Shadow. Should Light win, Shadow would recede and cease its consumption of Light¡¯s creations. Shadow agreed. It was with this pact that the conflict began.¡±


    Light pulled away from Shadow, its guardians vanishing.


    ¡°The Light returned to its creation, finding that its newly born people had warred with the dragons, and the Singers had vanished. Dismayed, it went to the mortals and explained the coming conflict. It brought peace to the war through a pact between mortals and dragons. So, the Dragon Lords were formed. They flew the skies, slaying monsters and maintaining peace through Dominion. From among them, the Light chose an avatar to dwell within.¡±


    ¡°The Hero of Light!¡± A child cried out in excitement.


    Amalia smiled slightly at the young girl,


    ¡°Indeed. The Hero of Light united the mortal world. But the Shadow was not to be outdone. It tempted and corrupted mortals, turning them to its purposes. One of these was a great wild dragon. Shadow dwelled within it, corrupted creatures of the land, giving birth to kobolds and other fearsome creatures.¡±


    Lizard-like monsters sprouted up, and a massive dragon, black, twisted, and cold like Shadow, rose, a colossal army before it.


    ¡°The mortal world prepared. Building siege engines, advancing their magicks, shoring up defenses.¡±


    A dark, visible wind, colder than a winter storm, passed through the land, settling over it like a chilling weight of unseen monsters.


    ¡°A war was coming. A war unlike any this world has ever seen since.¡±


    That colossal army began to march across the land, razing everything it could and killing all it found. The image before them undulated, fear and despair radiating over them all.


    Fear was writ on every face.


    But the armies of Light rode out to meet the coming tide of Shadow.


    The Hero of Light was flying on a great white dragon, blade raised high.


    ¡°The Hero of Light brought forth his armies, and the clash of these epic forces was so great the world shuddered.¡±


    At her words, the image vibrated, threatening to tear itself apart.


    ¡°No one knows how long the war lasted; it is said to have been eons. Others claim it was hours. But no one disputes how it ended. The great dragon, the Evil One, had been defeated. The Light had won.¡±


    On the battlefield, the armies of Light cheered, raising weapons high. The Hero of Light stood proud, his great white dragon raising its head, sending a burst of brilliant white flame from its maw into the sky.


    ¡°But the Shadow would not relent, for it was a sore loser. It refused to honor the agreement.¡±


    A mass of Shadow erupted from the fallen dragon, gathering itself into a massive ball, ready to consume all.


    On the field, the Hero of Light shook his head.


    ¡°The Hero of Light had known this was possible, so it had prepared for this. Raising his hand, he cast a great magick.¡±


    The gathered ball of Shadow and the dragon it had resided in rose into the air and shoved through space and time with a mighty push and a burst of light. It was pushed so hard that it was shoved outside of it.


    ¡°The Light had created this place outside of creation, and in the Shadow weakened defeated state, the Hero could seal the Shadow there. But it had a cost.¡±


    Stumbling, the Hero of Light fell to his knees, the great dragon slumping beside him. His armies gathered around him, looking horrified. The Hero of Light held out a hand.


    ¡°Without Shadow, there can be no Light. This remains true of great magic such as this. Such a thing requires sacrifice. One the Hero was glad to pay, for so he had come to love his people and the world the Light had made, he gave his life and the life of his dragon for it.¡±


    The Hero of Light collapsed.


    He was dead.


    Sobs could be heard throughout the room.


    Amalia¡¯s voice turned soft, reverent,


    ¡°From that day on, the armies carried this story. They have passed it down through their families, carrying it from generation to generation. We have come to know it by one name.¡±


    Here, the storyteller paused, and then the fire roared in the fireplace, lighting up like a beacon that bathed the room in a jubilant glow.


    ¡°Remembrance Day.¡±


    No one spoke for several moments.


    Slowly, someone began to clap, and others followed; the whole room erupted in applause.


    At precisely that moment, the door burst open, shattering into splinters.


    That¡¯s when the screaming began.

 Chapter Five: IrAegra

    Chapter Five: Ir¡¯Agera


    Screeching cries like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the scream to create a cacophony of horror and chaos. Ash looked around, backing up. He saw Uncle Derrick stand, and he yelled loudly over the noise,


    ¡°Everyone! Hear me! Go out the back! Do not run! But be quick! Move!¡±


    Amalia stepped forward, staff in hand, to meet a creature out of a nightmare. It was the size of a large dog, standing upright, with puss-colored scales, beady eyes like mud balls, and an elongated snout that opened to reveal rows of fangs. It wielded a crude spear and was dressed in tattered leather.


    It lashed out with a cry at Amalia, who calmly batted the attack away, moved her body like flowing water, and swept the monster¡¯s legs out from under it.


    With a sharp jab, the end of her staff sank into its eye with a sickening, slick, moist sound. Green slime burst forth, and the creature thrashed, screeching horribly before going still.


    As Amalia engaged the monster, the people began to leave, children being swept up into their parents¡¯ arms.


    Before Ash could follow, Amalia¡¯s voice, colder than the frigid waters of a lake, stopped him.


    ¡°Ash, with me.¡±


    ¡°But..¡±


    Her violet eyes hardened, and Ash swallowed his words. He pulled at Rosalia, standing stalk still like an ice sculpture. She shook herself, looking around before following him.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked, her brows furrowing with worry, her hands shaking.


    ¡°Follow, but not too closely,¡± was all Amalia said.


    They went outside, and Ash cried out.


    All of the sheep were dead¡ªa bloody mass of white and shredded skin. Wolves howled in the distance as creatures like the one Amalia had just killed flooded the area.


    A roar echoed through the land, so grotesque that Ash shivered at hearing it.


    ¡°No..¡± Amalia whispered to herself.


    A shadow descended over the farm, and stygian fire fell from the sky in a wave that ate at the land, burning the stables and fields in dark purple.


    Descending, Ash¡¯s mouth fell open as he realized the massive shadow was a monster. Great wings folded against a serpentine body, scales painted midnight blue shone in the moonlight. Its angular head had two great black horns curling from it, and its eyes were glittering rubies, reflecting the blood and fire around them.


    A man slid down from the creature.


    He wore dark clothes, a blade-like crushed pearls, and silver light in his hands. His features were a distorted version of a warrior king, and his skin was dark mahogany. His eyes were cinder orbs, and a cruel smile curled his lips as he stalked forward. His hair was the precise shade of the scales on the creature behind him. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Stay behind me, children,¡± Amalia said firmly, standing tall.


    ¡°No, Amalia, take them and go.¡±


    Ash turned, eyes widening. Uncle Derrick walked up, looking broken and haggard.


    ¡°Uncle Derrick? What happened?¡±


    Tears were streaming calmly from his eyes as he stared at the man walking toward them.


    ¡°Dara is dead. Those creatures were waiting for us behind the house. Like they knew we¡¯d go that way. Villagers are scattered, being chased down by those things.¡±


    He pointed,


    ¡°Go, Amalia. Take the kids. Leave this one to me.¡±


    Amalia shook her head,


    ¡°He will kill you.¡±


    Derrick smiled grimly,


    ¡°Yes. But he¡¯ll have to earn it. We knew this day would come. I knew something was off, but I ignored the signs.¡±


    Derrick looked over at Ash; something he couldn¡¯t identify was in his Uncle¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I love you, lad. Always have. Now go, get out of here. Save who you can.¡±


    ¡°Uncle, no!¡± Ash screamed. Rosalia began to cry.


    Amalia stared at Derrick for a moment and then took a breath.


    ¡°Hail, warrior.¡± She said softly.


    His Uncle Derrick stood straighter, and he pulled his sword from somewhere Ash couldn¡¯t see. He walked forward to meet the cinder-eyed man.


    ¡°An old soldier,¡± the man muttered.


    ¡°But not the one.¡±


    His cruel smile grew, and he lifted his blade.


    Amalia gestured at them,


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. Move!¡± She hissed.


    Ash didn¡¯t want to leave his Uncle, but he was swept along.


    Away from the burning farm.


    Away from his Uncle, who raised his blade, blurring toward the dark figure like a rushing wave.


    Blood painted the air. His Uncle¡¯s body fell to the ground.


    Ash cried out as they ran.


    And ran.


    ____________


    He had no idea how long they ran, but they heard a cry of fury some miles away.


    ¡°Get away from me, you light-fucked lizards!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Nick!¡± Ash called, pointing down the road.


    Sure enough, his stout dwarven friend was waving his hammer about at three of the lizard-like creatures who hissed and clicked their tongues at him, spears at the ready.


    Amalia held out a hand for them to stay, and a feint violet glow surrounded her as she moved like a dark bolt, white staff flashing.


    Ash had no idea what happened.


    It wasn¡¯t even a fight. Amalia¡¯s form was a shadowy blur of violet and white, and suddenly, the monsters were dead, Nick standing there with his hammer and mouth open.


    ¡°Wow. Right then, the storyteller is a fucking badass. Who would have guessed that one, eh?¡±


    He slipped his hammer back into his belt, nodding to Amalia.


    ¡°My thanks, storyteller.¡±


    Amalia flicked a hand,


    ¡°You should follow us. We are leaving.¡±


    Nick shook his head,


    ¡°Not until I check on Will. These things¡­¡± Ash saw him swallow, looking away,


    ¡°They speared my Ma¡¯. Will couldn¡¯t make it tonight, his Pa is sick. I¡¯m going to check on them.¡±


    His voice was firm.


    Amalia shook her head,


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, child, but he¡¯s dead. Better you come with us.¡±


    Ash planted his feet,


    ¡°You can¡¯t know that.¡±


    The storyteller turned to look at him, and Ash found it hard to continue. But he did.


    ¡°You can¡¯t know that he¡¯s dead. We should look. Will is a friend, and if you don¡¯t go, I am.¡±


    Rosalia still looked scared, but the red-haired girl nodded,


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    Amalia sighed, but her staff grinding into the dirt.


    ¡°Children, make no mistake, I can make you come with me.¡±


    Ash crossed his arms, a familiar stubbornness coming over him.


    ¡°Yeah? How easy is that? Dragging three unwilling kids along with you, screaming and making a fuss. It¡¯s much easier for you to look with us. Besides, you aren¡¯t our parent.¡±


    A dark look crossed her eyes,


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. I¡¯m just the one who saved you. But fine, you are right that expending the energy to force you is unwise. We will see if young Will is alive.¡±


    Nick¡¯s face relaxed, his relief evident.


    ¡°Thank you. Come on, it¡¯s not far.¡±


    Ash had visited Will¡¯s farm before, and they all had. They walked at a quick pace.


    Will¡¯s farm was on fire, with purple smoke rising into the sky.


    The lizard monsters hissed at a tree. On a high branch, Will stood, a bow in his hands.


    He fired an arrow, and it pierced a lizard creature¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Back ya filthy monsters! Or ya¡¯ll get another arrow, I swear it!¡±


    ¡°Thank the Light, he¡¯s fucking alive!¡± Nick whooped.


    Amalia growled,


    ¡°You idiot child!¡±


    The monsters turned from the tree and set their malicious sights on the group.


    ¡°Well, fuck.¡± Nick muttered.

 Chapter Six: Stab

    <u>Chapter Six: Stab</u>


    Amalia spoke calmly into the night air,


    ¡°Try and stay back. You may have to fight, as there are many, and I am one.¡±


    With that, she moved like lightning from the open sky. From his perch on the tree, Will shot arrows at the lizard monsters that charged toward the group.


    ¡°Fight? We can¡¯t fight those..those¡­things.¡± Rosalia stammered out.


    Nick hefted his hammer,


    ¡°These things killed my Ma; I¡¯m getting a little bit of vengeance.¡± His voice was as hard as granite, his eyes attempting to stare holes into the creatures that rushed toward them, spears held high.


    Ash attempted to swallow the lump of fear that had built up in his throat.


    These things killed my Aunt and Uncle.


    The thought descended like the Light itself.


    Why was he afraid? He should be angry! When the monsters had attacked his home, slaughtered the only family he had ever known, killed his friends, and burned his farm, he had done nothing.


    When wolves attacked the sheep, he acted, but when a monster out of stories appeared, he cowered? Is that who I am?


    Chilly anger shot through his veins, and suddenly, he wanted payback, too.


    ¡°Hey, Nick. Do you still keep that knife on you?¡±


    Nick glanced over at him, and the dwarf grunted, reaching to his belt, unsheathing the small knife he had kept, and handing it to Ash.


    Ash nodded, and Rosalia looked between them.


    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be thinking of fighting them? Just let Miss Amalia handle it, look!¡±


    She pointed at the storyteller, who was a whirlwind of death for the monsters. Two of the creatures were still nearing them every passing second, and Amalia showed no signs of helping them.


    ¡°Look alive, you three!¡± Will bellowed to them from his place on the tree.


    He tried to shoot an arrow at the lizard creatures, but it fell short, and he cursed.


    That chill in his veins intensified, and he found himself speaking,


    ¡°I think our best chance is to split them up. Rosalia, pick up that rock there. You don¡¯t have to fight, but you¡¯ll need to be ready if one gets past us.¡±


    Rosalia took a shuddering breath, quickly snatching up the rock, fumbling it for a moment before holding it close and backing farther away.


    The biggest threat to their lives was the spears the creatures held.


    They neared the group, and Ash readied the knife in his hands. It wasn''t huge, a hunting knife, but he held it firm and prayed to the Light he wouldn¡¯t cut himself.


    Nick gripped his hammer and bellowed at the creature nearest to him,


    ¡°Come at me, you Light cursed ugly stain!¡±


    The monster obliged, and Nick rolled away from it as it attacked with a jab from its spear.


    ¡°What he said!¡± Ash yelled at the other monster.


    He didn¡¯t have time to lament his choice of battle cries as the lizard thing attacked him.


    He found it easy enough to move out of the way of the jab. He wasn¡¯t a combat expert, and his heart beat like thunderclaps on a stormy night, but the monster seemed relatively slow.


    He dodged another jab as the creatures hissed and made clicking noises at him. Then he counter-attacked with a high slash of his knife. It felt like trying to cut into a tough bit of meat. Green blood spit out of the wound, and some of it got onto his hand. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    It was hot, wet, and sticky, like saliva.


    The monster howled, trying to jab him again. In trying to dodge, Ash tripped over his feet, falling to the ground with a muted thud, pain blossoming in his rear. The knife flew out of his hands, landing a little from him.


    He backed up quickly toward it, knowing he needed the weapon if he wanted to live.


    The creature hissed, raising the spear, which gleamed dangerously in the moon¡¯s light. This was it. I¡¯m going to die here, was all he could think.


    Until a rock smashed into the lizard creature¡¯s face.


    It screeched, and Ash dove for the knife. Picking it up, he plunged it into the monster''s hand that covered its eye where the rock had hit.


    Blood gushed as if from a scripted showerhead, but Ash didn¡¯t stop. He rode the creature to the ground, stabbing relentlessly.


    Uncle Derrick looked at him with that strange light in his eyes. What had that been? Aunt Dara, who he didn¡¯t even get to say goodbye to.


    Blazing flames and a shadowy creature.


    Stab.


    Stab.


    Stab.


    Someone was screaming? Was that him?


    ¡°Ash! It''s dead, Ash! Enough!¡±


    Rosalia was pulling at him, trying to get him to stop as he brought the knife down over and over again.


    He was screaming and sobbing at the same time. The monster beneath him was unrecognizable.


    Just green, brown, and pink mush. He was covered in green blood, hot, sticky, and stinking like rotten fruit.


    He didn¡¯t care.


    Will and Amalia walked up. The storyteller watched him, her face expressionless.


    Will Al¡¯Seen was a tall boy with a mop of black hair and bronze skin from working in the sun. He normally wore a mischievous smile. His brown tunic, black trousers, and boots were caked with dirt. The scent of smoke hung about him, and his bow was slung over his shoulder.


    His brown eyes were grim.


    ¡°So it happened to you all, too.¡± A statement more than a question.


    ¡°Is anyone?¡± Rosalia trailed off, bowing her head when Will shook his.


    ¡°We must leave. Should the man from earlier follow, we will all die.¡±


    Ash turned to Amalia,


    ¡°Who was he? Did he do this? Why is this happening?¡±


    Amalia weathered his questions, expression never shifting.


    ¡°Let us move. I wish to cover more miles tonight before resting.¡±


    ¡°Tell me!¡± Ash bellowed, the chill within him exploding into a blown winter storm.


    Amalia stared at him. The others shifted a bit, but it was Rosalia who spoke,


    ¡°My Dad is probably dead. I don¡¯t even know. Nick¡¯s Mom is dead, and so are Will¡¯s relatives. So much death¡­please tell us why, Miss Amalia?¡±


    Amalia closed her eyes at the girl¡¯s words, taking a breath before opening them.


    ¡°Two miles from here is my cottage. It is protected with scripts. Let¡¯s make it there, and then I will answer some questions.¡±


    She didn¡¯t phrase it like a request, and Ash knew that was the best they would get.


    The others must have agreed because they followed Amalia as she began walking.


    No one said anything as they walked. A somber shadow hung around them all.


    He had never been to the storyteller¡¯s cottage before, and Amalia had never offered its location to everyone. When they arrived, they found it a humble tiny home with a small garden out front. A black cat lay by the door.


    When Amalia approached, the cat flicked open its yellow eyes, stretched languidly, wrapped its body around her legs, and purred loudly. Amalia unlocked the door to the tiny cottage, paying no mind to the cat; she invited them all in.


    It was comfortably decorated, with a couch and abstract paintings hanging on the walls. A small table was in one corner, and a fireplace occupied a large part of the room by the couch. The wood within had long been turned to ash.


    Various plants were around the room, vibrant and healthy; they added a rainbow of color.


    Ash could see another room in the back, next to a tiny kitchen with one cupboard.


    Everyone sat on the carpet, and Nick got the fire going without anyone asking him to.


    ¡°So? You promised.¡± Ash stated bluntly.


    Amalia sat down on a nearby chair after leaning her staff against the door.


    ¡°So I did, but I promised that I would answer some questions, not all and not specific ones.¡±


    Ash scowled, but the storyteller cut him off with a slash of her hand,


    ¡°Soothe, boy. I will answer some questions. But you must understand that there are reasons I do not answer everything. There are also¡­conditions you must fulfill before I answer certain questions.¡±


    ¡°Conditions? What are they?¡± Rosalia asked.


    ¡°We will get to that. You wish to know why they attacked Ash¡¯s and surrounding farms?¡±


    They all nodded. Amalia took a deep breath before answering.


    ¡°They were looking for someone.¡±


    ¡°Who? Is it you? The way you move, and you know how to fight! You¡¯re no regular storyteller.¡± Will accused her.


    Ash nodded, agreeing with the other boy.


    Amalia¡¯s lips curled in a slight, wry smile.


    ¡°So I am not. As to those questions¡­well now. We have come to the conditions I mentioned earlier.¡±


    ¡°What are these light-cursed conditions, then!¡± Nick swore, ¡°I want to know why my Ma was killed; shadow, take you!¡±


    Amalia did not react to his outburst.


    The rest did as Nick¡¯s words hit them like a blacksmith¡¯s hammer.


    Rosalia began to sob, with Will putting an arm around her.


    ¡°They¡¯re all dead!¡± She cried.


    Ash closed his eyes, seeing the fire, his Uncle Derrick¡¯s body lying in the dirt, run through with a sword. He swallowed but couldn¡¯t prevent a little cry from escaping his lips. He clenched his fists and banged his head against them, trying to make the images disappear.


    When he did open his eyes, he saw Will looking at him, his arm tight around Rosalia. His eyes, generally filled with mischief, looked dead.


    ¡°I know you do. My conditions are simple,¡± she began, her voice soft.


    ¡°You must become bronze-ranked adventurers.¡±

 Chapter Seven: Bronze Rank

    Chapter Seven: Bronze Rank


    ¡°Why do we have to do that? Why can¡¯t you tell us!¡± Rosalia asked, her hands bunching into fists, her ears twitching.


    Light, but she¡¯s adorable when she¡¯s mad. Ash couldn¡¯t help thinking about it. Here he was, his family dead, many of the people he knew and grew up around likely dead, and he was mooning after a girl.


    A tingling shame crept up his neck.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to know what in the light those things are,¡± Nick added.


    Amalia answered Rosalia first.


    ¡°All you need to know is that this is my condition. You cannot pry the knowledge from me, so you have little choice to comply unless you wish to remain ignorant.¡±


    She turned then to Nick,


    ¡°Those were kobolds.¡±


    Nick raised a black brow,


    ¡°You mean from that light-fucked story?¡±


    Amalia pursed her lips, and her violet eyes narrowed,


    ¡°I grow weary of your needless swearing, child.¡±


    Nick smiled pearl white teeth at her and shrugged,


    ¡°I don¡¯t rightly give a light-cursed fuck, now do I? You¡¯re naught but a storyteller to me, and as grateful as I may be to you savin¡¯ my life and all, I won¡¯t guard my tongue for anyone.¡±


    Amalia frowned, and for a moment, Ash thought she¡¯d hit the dwarf with her staff. Then she shrugged,


    ¡°I suppose I can respect that attitude. But it is as you say, Nicholas. They are indeed from that story. Many things you have seen this night were in that story. And if you want to hear more about it, you will strive to meet my conditions.¡±


    Ash mulled it over a bit, all lapsing into silence as they thought.


    What she was offering was a fulfillment of his dream. He had longed to be an adventurer. Adventurers knew the secrets of magic. They fought monsters, roamed the lands in search of glory, and protected the weak.


    But it left a sour taste in his mouth that someone was trying to make him do it to learn about the deaths of those closest to him.


    He felt like he had bought a ticket to his dream with his Aunt and Uncle¡¯s deaths.


    But what other choice did he have?


    ¡°We could look for the information ourselves,¡± Rosalia suggested. She spoke slowly, as if exploring a new topic she didn¡¯t want to get wrong.


    Amalia remained stoic, saying,


    ¡°You could try, but where would you look?¡±


    Rosalia frowned, ears reddening. Will shrugged,


    ¡°We could ask around; surely someone knows where to go. Books are a thing, last I looked.¡±


    Rosalia pointed at him, nodding.


    ¡°So they do, but I promise you that the books you seek are hard to find in random villages and farms. Further, the kinds of answers you need are even rarer in books. Who¡¯s to say how long it would take for you to find these things? What will you do if you come across more monsters? Not all can be defeated with a knife and a hammer.¡±


    That was the final nail in the coffin of their search for answers. For most monsters, you needed an adventurer. That¡¯s why local villages often put up notice boards, posting monster contracts for passing adventurers, paying them with coins gathered from every villager. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The four of them would not survive a lycanthrope, for example.


    Amalia gave a gracious nod, acknowledging her victory.


    ¡°Do not look so defeated. I will assist you, in a manner of speaking, in fulfilling my condition.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Will asked.


    Amalia raised a hand, ticking off a finger,


    ¡°First, I shall take you to Wyrmhaven Academy. Secondly, I will train and prepare you as best I can before we arrive.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­I can put it together that this place is a school, but why would we be going there?¡± Rosalia shifted as if embarrassed to ask what she thought was a stupid question.


    It was Nick who answered,


    ¡°It¡¯s an adventure academy. You go there to learn to be an adventurer. I overheard my Ma talkin¡¯ to a trader who said he was headed up there. It¡¯s far to the west of us, in the Vynterium mountains near Drakoisia. You¡¯d have us travel clear across Aleria, woman! Has the shadow taken your mind?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Amalia muttered.


    Louder, she said,


    ¡°Precisely. I''d say the journey will take us some time, a couple of months. Time enough to prepare you for the entrance exam.¡±


    Will groaned,


    ¡°Never been any good at tests.¡±


    ¡°What test have you taken? We never went to any school,¡± Ash said, his brows coming together in confusion.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t taken any, but trust me, I¡¯m rotten at them,¡± Will grinned.


    Rosalia giggled, and Ash flicked his eyes between her and Will, frowning.


    ¡°We leave tomorrow morning, so get some rest. I have a few bedrolls I tucked away; I¡¯ll get them. I suspect you all must be hungry, too. I¡¯ll get that prepared. It will be hard to eat after what you all went through, but I suggest you do so anyway. You will need your strength in the days to come.¡±


    Ash had a nagging feeling she was correct.


    Everyone had grown tired of the stench of the dried green blood on him, so he was made to shower before bed. Amalia had a shower in her room, which he found to be a bed, dresser, and nightstand. When he was done, she had somehow cleaned his clothes.


    ¡°A script,¡± was all she said by way of explanation.


    Sleep was long in coming.


    __________


    They were woken up before dawn by Amalia pressing her staff into their sides.


    ¡°Light, woman! Five more minutes!¡± Nick growled, pulling the bed roll further up.


    She poked him harder, and he growled again before reluctantly crawling out of the bedroll.


    Ash waved her away, already getting up and rolling up his roll.


    Was that his imagination, or did she look a little disappointed? Shrugging, Ash put the roll away.


    ¡°I¡¯ve prepared travel bags for you all. We are headed to Deharra and then Brilehaven after that. We will stop at midday and start your first lesson. Let us be off.¡±


    Yawning and stretching, the group left the cottage, with Amalia scratching the black cat''s head and bending down to whisper something Ash couldn¡¯t hear to the animal.


    Morning dew fell from the tree leaves around them, and his breath turned to white mist as it met the air. A bird chirped nearby.


    Aunt Dara sure would have enjoyed this morning. The thought brought a sorrowful shadow to Ash¡¯s face as they trekked through the forest and to the road.


    It felt wrong, somehow, for time to march on after what had happened last night. Yet here they were, traveling to an academy, moving on with life not even hours after everyone they had known had either been killed or lost.


    Ash felt his throat constrict, his teeth pressing together hard.


    ¡°We¡¯re doing everything we can, Ash.¡±


    Rosalia was beside him, her green eyes filled with understanding and concern.


    Ash looked away,


    ¡°We¡¯re betraying them. How can we move on like this? Like nothing happened?¡±


    Amalia¡¯s voice cut in,


    ¡°On the contrary, you¡¯re doing exactly what your Aunt and Uncle would have wanted. Besides, you¡¯re pursuing answers the best way you know how. Answers you¡¯re not even aware you¡¯re looking for, even.¡±


    An icy hand latched itself around his heart, and Ash bit back a retort. He didn¡¯t want to argue with her this early in the morning.


    He ground his teeth together.


    She has all the answers and refuses to give us even one! Light, but the woman frustrated him. They were all being blackmailed, and what made it worse was that they could do nothing but dance to her tune.


    She did save your life. He reluctantly acknowledged the thought, which did nothing to help his mood. Rosalia took his hand and squeezed, giving him a comforting smile before moving ahead to talk with Nick.


    Her presence was a warm fire on a chilly night, lightening their unseen burden of grief.


    She did this even despite carrying her own.


    Rosalia was a good person.


    And beyond beautiful, Ash thought, dipping his head to hide his blushing face.


    Soon, they found a clear area a little ways off the road.


    ¡°This is a good spot to camp. We will continue onward tomorrow. Go and fetch us some wood, all of you.¡±


    They all obeyed, setting down their packs.


    After a cheery fire had been built, Amalia nodded, lowering her hood and stretching.


    ¡°Very well then. It is time to begin your training, children.¡±

 Chapter Eight: The First Lesson

    <u>Chapter Eight: The First Lesson</u>


    Training is going to kill me, Ash Lorcan thought as he did his sixtieth push-up. He groaned, his muscles screaming at him to stop. It was as if someone had injected fire into his body. What made it worse was that his body was covered in sweat. Luckily, he was able to take off his shirt.


    He longed to stop and allow the cool air to dry him, but if he did, Amalia would prod him with her staff, offering a scornful tongue lashing.


    So he rolled over and began crunches.


    ¡°All the way up, Ash. I will not have you doing the exercise incorrectly.¡±


    Ash was beginning to think she was a monster herself.


    After running in place, dropping to the ground, picking himself back up, and doing that fifty times, Ash was sure he would puke.


    ¡°She¡¯s evil incarnate. I know it,¡± he muttered.


    The others were in similar states, all groaning like toppled cows.


    Amalia was shaking her head,


    ¡°I expected a little more from you all. You¡¯re all full of youth, after all. Now, get up, we¡¯re moving on.¡±


    She produced four training swords from thin air, and they plopped onto the dirt.


    ¡°Where were you keeping those?¡± Will asked with a groan.


    Amalia waved a dismissive hand,


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I suspect not all of you will have talent with the sword, but I want you to have a rudimentary understanding nonetheless. Grab one and pick an opponent.¡±


    Rosalia and Ash stood awkwardly across from one another.


    Will and Nick were doing the same thing nearby but far enough away not to interfere.


    Nick looked vastly uncomfortable holding the sword compared to everyone else, while Will looked confident. Ash, for his part, felt the blade fit him like a glove.


    He slipped into a stance with his feet apart, knees slightly bent, and knew it felt right.


    Rosalia looked like a newborn sheep, uncertain of herself and about to fall any minute.


    ¡°Begin!¡± Amalia called out.


    Rosalia rushed him,


    ¡°Hi-yah!¡± She yelled, slashing at him with her wooden blade.


    It was child¡¯s play for Ash to move around the attack, but he hesitated to counter it.


    He didn¡¯t want to hurt her.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    She whirled around to attack him again, and his hesitation in attacking her cost him. The blow to his shoulder sent a pulse of hot pain zinging through him, and he blew out a hissing breath, wincing.


    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m so sorry, Ash! Did I hit you too hard?¡±


    Her eyes were wide with concern, and she was staring at her shoulder. She bit her lip.


    Light, but she¡¯s adorable, Ash thought, not for the first time or the last.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Again?¡± He asked.


    Amalia was staring at them, and he didn¡¯t want her to come to bother them.


    ¡°Aha!¡± Will called out, having knocked Nick¡¯s wooden sword out of his hand.


    ¡°Light!¡± Nick swore, shaking his hand and sucking at his fingers, his eyes narrowed with pain.


    Will was grinning triumphantly and walking around, holding his hands out, his blade outstretched in one hand.


    ¡°Thank you! Thank you! Tell me, are you not entertained!¡±


    Rosalia giggled again, and Ash frowned as he stared at Will.


    As the sun began to set, Amalia produced cookware and venison from thin air, prompting Ash to wonder where, by the Light, she was keeping it.


    Dinner was made shortly after, and the group ate like ravenous wolves.


    ¡°Sit down, all of you. It is time you learned a bit about magic.¡±


    They all paid attention when she said that.


    She smiled slightly, violet eyes glowing in the firelight.


    ¡°Yes, I thought that would earn your attention. Sit down, cross your legs, and listen closely. I do not like repeating myself.¡±


    When they had all done so, Amalia held up a single finger. A ball of pale white flame reminiscent of pearls and polished silver hung over her finger, no larger than a bead.


    They all stared, enraptured.


    This magic, Ash thought.


    Every part of him, in that single instant, wanted nothing more than to be able to do what Amalia was doing right now.


    The storyteller¡¯s voice was amused as she said,


    ¡°You see this as magic, as a spell out of the stories, yes?¡±


    They all nodded at once.


    The ball of white fire vanished when Amalia made a fist. She held her fist up momentarily before unfolding her hand to reveal her open palm.


    ¡°In truth, it is not magic at all. At least, not in the way you¡¯re thinking.¡±


    Her voice gained an edge of sorrow as she added,


    ¡°Sadly, the truth has a way of removing the magic from most things.¡±


    She cleared her expression, lowering her hand as she spoke again. The night air caused her black hair to move like dark water.


    ¡°What you saw is known as a technique using my elar, which comes from my elan.¡±


    ¡°Elar?¡± Rosalia asked. At the same time, Will asked, ¡°Elan?¡±


    Rosalia shot a glance at him, her ears going pink.


    Ash felt ice in his veins as he scowled.


    ¡°I do not wish to over-explain, as you will learn most of this at Wyrmhaven. Instead, I want you to close your eyes and cast your consciousness within yourself. Look for the core of who you are, of that spark within you. You will know it when you find it.¡±


    Ash did as asked. His mind delved into his body.


    He was aching. Every part of his body he focused on was throbbing with dull, tired pain. He tried to push past that, going deeper.


    His heart pounded out a steady rhythm, strong but healthy.


    Deeper still.


    He encountered a coldness as if he had plunged his hand into chilly water. His lips tugged downward into a frown, his brows pinching together, and he felt a numbness blanket his thoughts.


    Blue light found on the surface of frozen ponds on a clear winter day exploded across his mind''s eye. He gasped, and at the same time, others around him did so.


    ¡°Good, it seems you have all found it. This is your elan. Scholars have occasionally referred to it as your core. The light you¡¯re seeing will be a different color for all of you. No, I will not tell you what it means. Not yet. All I want you to do now is try to draw on it with a mental hand.¡±


    This was harder.


    Or so Ash thought; no matter how he tried, he could not grasp that chilly light.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing it!¡± Rosalia laughed aloud.


    ¡°Oh, but this feels wonderful!¡±


    ¡°This¡­this feels amazing!¡± Will echoed.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s nice,¡± Nick grumbled.


    But Ash did not add his voice to the mix because he felt no wondrous feeling.


    He clawed at the light within himself with thoughts. He tried a gentler approach, beckoning at it with a mental wave.


    He probed it with a spear jab of his mind.


    Nothing worked for him.


    When he opened his eyes, Amalia was staring at him.


    Slowly, she shook her head.


    Ash¡¯s heart sank, and he hung his head.


    I can¡¯t use magic, he thought with despair.